My Lady
by jjean
Summary: Meg becomes a maid for a spoiled princess. Through her experiences, she learns about life, love and friendship. A Herc/Meg fanfic.
1. away from home

**Author's note: **Okay, this is my second Herc/Meg fanfic. Helen is going to be in this one, that's why it's set in Troy. In this chapter I didn't give her parents names because they're pretty minor characters...and I couldn't think of any. I plan on continuing my other fanfics so it might take a while for me to update this one.

--

Meg swept a loose strand of her auburn hair away from her face. "Are we nearing the city, Sir?" she asked the cart-driver sitting next to her. The man mumbled something that sounded like 'close.'

She held the basket carrying her belongings close to her body as the wagon bounced over the uneven road. They had been traveling for hours but she could still only see farmland. She kept her eyes on the path ahead of them, expecting to eventually see the city walls of Troy; their destination.

"What's a young lady like you doin' travelin' all by yourself."

She was startled to hear the old man speak. He had remained silent for most of the trip, save for the polite greeting he had given her when he picked her up. Then again, she had no desire to talk to him either.

"I have a job in the city." she answered.

"That ain't what I asked." He said as he used the reins to maneuver the horse around, yet another, pothole.

She looked down at her life's possessions in her lap. Why was she alone? It was a question she had been asking herself since they had set out on this journey. Her mother had tried to explain to her this morning...

--

_Meg was awaken from her pleasant dreams by the sound of shuffling near her bed. She opened her heavy eyelids to see Mother __taking clothes out of her dresser drawer, folding them, and laying them in a basket on the floor. She quietly watched her mother's movements as she opened the closet and pulled an extra blanket from the shelf, gently placing it over the basket. She then left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. _

_Meg turned onto her side and closed her eyes, waiting for her dreams to sweep her away once again. Before they could, however, she felt a hand grip her shoulder and shake it. She pushed it away and buried her face deeper into her pillow. _

"_Megara." She could hear the muffled voice of her father from under her sheets. She peeked out of the covers and saw him standing over her bed, looking sternly at her. "It's time to go."_

_She rubbed her tired eyes, "What?"_

"_It's time to go." He repeated, picking the basket off of the floor._

_She sat up and gave her father a confused look, "Go where?"_

_"You've got a job in the city. Get dressed." He left the room, closing the door behind him._

_She stared at the door, listening, as his footsteps gradually faded down the hallway. She pushed the covers away and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet feeling the chill of the cold stone floor. 'What did he mean?,' she thought as she rubbed the goosebumps growing on her arms. She had never had a job before and besides cooking and cleaning with her mother, she had __never worked before. _

_She walked to her window and looked up at the sky. __Apollo was just raising the sun, iluminating the earth beneath him. She loved sunrises; just watching the prism of colors decorate the sky for a few short moments, only to be seen again when the day was done, sent chills up her spine. After it was over, she lowered her violet eyes to view her fathers small farm._

_The corn stalks were growing very well this year and she could see her brothers hauling equipment from the barn to prepare for the harvest. At 16, she was the youngest in her family next to her older brother Jason (who was 18) and her eldest brother Mark (who was 21). __Both of her brothers also __helped other __farmers in the local area during the harvest season. Most of which didn't have sons or who's children had already moved on to find their way in the world. _

_"Megara!" She heard F__ather yell at her door._

_"Coming!" She slipped off her nightdress and picked a brown chiton from the closet. She put on her well-worn sandals and opened the door, hoping her father wouldn't notice that she hadn't brushed her hair or washed her face._

_"Let's go." He grabbed her by the hand, lead her downstairs, and into the front room. Meg saw Mother standing silently by the door, holding the basket she had watched her pack earlier. Her brothers were not there. _

_F__ather let go of her hand and went into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone._

_Meg turned to her mother, "__What's going on?" _

_Mother glanced, nervously, at the kitchen door, as if expecting her husband to return immediatly. When he didn't, she responded, "Your father has found a job for you in the city," she lowered her head, "You will be living there."_

_Meg couldn't hide her shocked expression, "What?"_

_She was only 16! Sure, most of the girls her age had already moved out of their parents house to marry. But surely her fat__her wouldn't force her to leave, would he? Why did she have to leave when her brothers didn't? _

_Her brothers had moved into the farmhouse when they each turned 18, so they could still help their father on the farm. They would probably stay there until they found wives of their own, which they would take their sweet time doing since Father didn't charge them for living there._

_Father returned carrying a wrapped bundle, "Here." He said gruffly,__ handing it to her. _

_She stared confusedly at the package, then at Father. He ignored her puzzled expression and opened the front door, gesturing for her to follow. When she didn't move, he grabbed her by the elbow and tugged her out of the door, into the morning sun. She__ shaded her eyes with her hand. She saw a__ wagon parked in front of the house; recognizing the driver as a merchant that her father had dealt with regularly at the agora. _

_She started to panic, the reality of the situation weighing upon her: __Her family was sending her away, to live in the city, by herself._

_She spun around to face Father, "I don't want to leave!"_

_She pleaded with him but he remained stone-faced as he took the parcel from her and placed it on top of the basket. He then placed it in the cart next to the driver. _

_Having no luck with him, she turned to Mother, pulling her into an embrace, __"You can't do this, please!"_

_Mother held on to her tightly but said nothing. After a few moments, she could feel the strong arms of her father pull her by the waist towards the wagon..._

_--_

"Are you alright?"

Meg jumped at the sound, her thoughts returning to the present, "I'm sorry. I was just...thinking." She paused, "To answer your question: I-I don't know why."

The man nodded, his vision focused on the road.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, curious as to why he didn't ask any other questions. They continued to ride in silence, leaving each other to their own thoughts. Out of boredom, Meg rummaged through her basket. She pulled out the package that her father had given her and opened it.

It was a loaf of sweet bread, her favorite food. A lump formed in her throat as she remembered how she loved to bake sweet bread with her mother during the cold winter months. Mother eventually let her bake it by herself, making sure she knew the recipe by heart. _Teach a man to fish, you feed a man. Teach a woman to fish, you feed a city-state, _Mother would always say. As a child, Meg giggled at the phrase, not understanding why _anyone _would want to eat fish for the rest of their lives.

Now, she saw that her mother was just preparing her for this day. The day that she would leave her home and make it on her own.

"Hey, you gonna' to eat all that?" the man said, once again, interrupting her thoughts.

She was going to give him a sharp retort, but thought better of it. He probably wasn't getting paid much by her father to drive her all the way to the city and she certainly didn't have any money. Besides, it wasn't his fault she was being sent away.

She broke off a piece and gave it to him, which he took graciously, eating it in a few bites. She saved her half, tucking it in the bottom of the basket.

The merchant nudged her with his elbow, "We're here."

Meg faced forward and saw what looked like a large brick in the distance. Squinting, she started to see crowds of people filtering in and out of it through a large gate. She took a deep breath. This was it.

This was Troy.


	2. A new home

**Authors note **Sorry this took so long. I had to completely rewrite it after my computer crashed. And yes, Herc will be in this story, too!

Meg cautiously stepped down from the wagon. The cart-driver, whom she found was named Leucus, had stopped in front of what she could only assume was the home of her new employer. Despite Leucus' assurances that the location of her job was in a safe part of town, she still felt uneasy. And having to ride through the 'unsafe' part of town to get there didn't help either. Those fears, however, quickly subsided when she saw the villa.

The building itself was modest in length, although it was at least two stories high. Three short steps lead up to the wide patio which, parallel to her, stood eight ionic stone columns. Just beyond that was a large double-door made of a dark wood. The red tiled roof was a sharp contrast to the pale pillars that held it up.

The walkway leading up to it split around a fountain; the perfectly trimmed grass and foliage adding to it's cozy appearance. She scanned the property with critical eyes, trying to find an imperfection in the seemingly perfect scene. She still felt resentment towards her parents but had managed to keep it in the back of her mind for most of the trip. As her 'future' loomed before her, the feeling was starting to return and this time she was unable to suppress it. Along with her anger came a familiar sense of doubt. Doubt in herself. Something she hid so well when her family or anyone else was around.

Mother had always bragged about how intelligent her daughter was. How Meg cooked meals for the entire family by herself, how she finished her chores before her brothers even awakened and found a way to do them in half the time. _What did she call me? _She thought for a moment, _Resourceful! She said I was resourceful. _Maybe they were right. Maybe she was capable of taking care of herself, without their aid. If they truly believed that, she wished she had as much faith as they did.

"You gonna' stand there all day?"

"Oh!" Meg spun around to face Leucus, who was sitting patiently his cart, waiting for her to gather her belongings, "Sorry."

She grabbed her basket, thanked him and started to walk down the flower-lined path to her new home. When she got to the doors, she paused. Not that she had a choice but, at this point, she knew there was no turning back. Taking a deep breath, she raised the heavy brass knocker and let it fall back into place, making a loud dull sound against the thick wood. After a few moments, she heard the sound of locks being undone on the other side of the door.

It slowly opened to reveal a pale, middle-aged woman in a black dress and apron. Her graying brown hair was pulled in a neat bun, tied securely with a dark ribbon. She was average looking at best and would have looked nicer if she weren't frowning. But she was and, judging from the deep lines around her mouth, she did it frequently.

"Are you the new maid?" Her voice cracked and seemed flat, as if she had said the same phrase many times before.

"Y-yes." She had never exactly been told what her job was, "I think so."

"Well, at least Leucus brought you here on time." The woman opened the door wider to let Meg through, taking in her appearance at the same time. "Do you always dress like that?"

Meg ran a hand through her still unbrushed hair, embarrased. She didn't know what to say. Instead, her eyes wandered about the vast foyer they were standing in.

The maid put the locks back into place, picked up a broom that was leaning against a nearby wall and walked down one of the hallways. "Follow me. Don't touch anything."

She obeyed and fell into step behind her but continued to admire the villa's architecture. The floor was made of marble but was protected from scuffing feet by a blood red carpet that ran the length of the hallway. Upon the walls hung various tapestries and artwork that, she assumed, were very expensive. Actually, every individual item seemed to be worth a small fortune. Even the vases and fragile ivory figurine's they would periodically pass along the way. It all seemed out of place inside of what she thought was a suburban home.

The maid stopped at one of the doors dotting the hallway and opened it, gesturing for her to go in. She walked in and saw that it was a small bedroom. The room was oddly similar to the hallway, decorated with rich colors and gold accents on the furniture. The bed was over-stuffed and made the room look smaller.

"Is this my...?" She heard the door click shut behind her. She spun around, finding that the maid had left her alone in the room. Or so she thought.

"So, you're my new lady-in-waiting?"

Meg turned to her left where the door to the lavatory was open. In the doorway stood the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Icy blue eyes stared at her from a heart-shaped face; blond hair falling past her shoulders and forming loose curls around it. She was wearing a strapless purple dress made of a light material but was drapped in a way that emphasized her slender waist. She was only about seventeen or eighteen but, with her hands on her hips and her chin tilted upward, had the air of a woman who was confident in herself, especially her looks.

The woman raised an eyebrow, "Well?"

It took a few seconds for her to answer, "Y-yes, Ma'am."

"I'm Helen. 'Lady Helen' to you." She walked across the room to her nightstand, reached in one of the drawers and pulled out a hairbrush. It was made of ivory with designs intricately carved into it. Another priceless article to add to the house's collection. Surprisingly, Lady Helen handed the brush to her.

Meg took it from her. It felt cool and heavy in her palm, heavier than she expected. She gently curled her fingers around it's handle, "Thank you...Lady Helen." She ran it through her tangled hair, letting the soft bristles smooth it's natural fluffyness.

Helen let out a loud shriek, "What are you doing!?" she snatched the brush away, holding it at arms length as if it had just been dropped into a chamber pot.

"Excuse me?"

"You're supposed to brush _my _hair!" She glared, pursing her lips. Changing the once angelic face into one that looked more like a demon, "Why would I give _you _anything!"

It wasn't a question. The tone of her voice indicated that answering it would only make matters worse.

Helen shoved her way to the door, throwing it open. "Achaea!" She yelled down the hallway. After a few seconds, the maid that had escorted Meg through the house appeared.

"Yes, Lady Helen."

"Go get me a new brush. Mine's ruined!" She turned her attention back to Meg, "How dare you use the property of a princess!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't know..." And she didn't, at the time. It wasn't until she heard 'princess' that she made the connection. This was Lady Helen of Troy. Daughter of Priam and heir to the throne. Meg slapped herself, mentally, wondering how she could have missed it. No common Grecian would be able to afford to live in a home of this size. Even less, the valuables that furnished it. Then again, she never expected her parents to send her to work for royalty.

"You didn't know!?" Helen's cheeks were turning crimson.

"No!" She said, realizing how insulting the phrase sounded, "I mean...you'll have to excuse my inexperience. I'm only sixteen and i've never held a job like this before. I apologize if I insulted you, Lady Helen." She bowed her head, hoping her words had some effect on the irate princess.

And they did. Helen relaxed her shoulders and released her clenched fists, "I'll pardon your behavior because it's your first day." Tossing the brush in an iron wastebasket near the door, she fixed Meg with a cold stare, "Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, Ma'am."

In the blink of an eye, Helen's glare reshaped into a smile, "Now, let me show you where you sleep." She walked to an opposite wall, lifting one of the tapestries. Meg watched, shocked, as the wall gave way underneath it, revealing a darkened room.

"Welcome to your new home."


	3. broken alliances

**Author's note: **School starts tomorrow so I don't know when i'll be able to update. When I do, i'll update 'Megara'.

Meg sat on her bed. It was so small that, if she stretched out, her ankles would have hung over the edge. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that, other than the bed, the room was completely bare. She had been sitting with her knees curled up to her chest, staring at the wall, for about an hour. The only source of illumination was a single sliver of light that peeked under the door.

"Are you dressed?" She heard Helen's muffled voice from the other side of the wall.

"Yes." The princess had provided a uniform similar to the one Achaea wore.

Helen opened the 'secret' door and let Meg walk back into her bedroom, looking at her approvingly. "You look better in it then my last servant did. Some people might not care but I refuse to be seen with...unattractive servants. You have two uniforms; one for daytime and one for night. Wash your night clothes during the day and your day clothes at night. Kay? Good. Now," She opened her wardrobe, "Pick something for me to wear. I'm having dinner with my father and my fiance." She took a step back, revealing a closet full of clothes, all of them different in color and style.

Meg reached in and grabbed one of the dresses, a green one, and held it out to her, "This one?"

She snatched it away and let it drop to the floor, "I wore that one yesterday! Pick again."

It amazed her how quickly the princess' emotions could change; from normal one minute to angry the next. It was starting to get on her nerves but what annoyed her the most was that she couldn't do anything about it! If Helen kicked her out, she would have nowhere to go but home. And if her parents didn't take her back..._Hera help me, _she thought, reaching, once again, into the overstuffed closet, _This is going to take a while._

--

"Your palace is beautiful." Meg said as they left the bedroom.

Helen, finally deciding on a red dress that went down to her knees and matching scarf to hang over her shoulders, let out a high, unrealistic laugh, "Oh, no! My home is much bigger than this. My father and I are just living here while our palace is being...redecorated."

They stopped at the grand archway leading to the dining room, a room concealed by a curtain. Helen cleared her throat and straightened her already perfectly coiffed hair. "Well?"

"Yes, Lady Helen?"

"Open the curtain!" She snapped.

"Oh, sorry." Meg had to use both hands to pull back the heavy drape. She waited until Helen passed through and followed. They entered what must have been the largest room in the house. The only piece of furniture that occupied it was a long wooden table that could seat at least twenty. On the far side of the room sat two men. One of them, at the head of the table, was King Priam.

The face was unmistakable; his dark green eyes, black hair and handsome features were plastered on walls throughout Troy. The only characteristic he shared with his daughter was his pale skin tone. But the identity of the man sitting to his right was unknown to her.

He looked slightly older than Helen and had a mop of thick curly red hair. Unlike the king, who was wearing his finest robes and jewels, the stranger was conservatively dressed. He was wearing a sleevless blue tunic with a symbol embroidered in gold on the front and a belt, showing off his well built physiqhe. What also made the men different from one another were their facial expessions. While Priam smiled as soon as Helen walked into the room, the other kept his eyes on the table, staring at his folded hands.

"Good evening, Father." Helen said a little too cheerfully as she floated across the room and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Meg stayed rooted to her spot near the entryway, not sure if she should follow or wait until she was called upon. She was already on Helen's bad side, for that she was certain, and didn't want to make it worse. From where she was standing, she was far away enough to give them privacy but just close enough to hear their conversation...

"Hello, sweetheart." Priam said as Helen took the seat to his left, "You've met Sir Hercules, Captain of the Thebian army. Yes?"

Herc raised his head and gave a weak smile, "Hi, Helen."

"Hello, Hercules." She replied, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously.

The king waited until the first course was served before he continued, "As you both know, there has been some...restlessness in Sparta. We believe that they're planning an attack on this very city in the near future. Of course, " He quickly added, "it's impossible for them to make it across our border. Our walls are impenetrable. But, just to be safe, it has been agreed that we will create an alliance between Thebes and the great city of Troy."

"Your Highness?" Herc said, leaving his food untouched, "There is something very important I must discuss with you." He glanced at Helen, who was checking her appearance in a portable mirror, "Privately."

Priam waved a hand, "It can wait until after dinner, I'm sure. Where was I? Ah, yes. Tomorrow, when I announce the engagment to the public, will be a day of celebration! Now eat, you must be exhausted from traveling all this way from Athens. How is the city state doing, by the way?"

"Fine, Sir. But they are a little concerned that you refused to join their coalition against Sparta. Even more now that you've agreed to do so with Thebes."

The king took a bite of his food, chewing it slowly. He swallowed and said, "Is there some sort of problem with which cities I choose to associate with?"

"No, Sir!" He responded immediately, "I just feel that, in order to bring peace, we should...work together."

Priam let out a laugh that echoed throughout the vast space, "Don't we all wish it were that easy! Athens has the best naval fleet in Greece, they're more than capable of taking care of themselves. Now, onto more important business. Have you set a wedding date?"

Glad that their boring conversation was over, Helen perked up, "Oh, can we have it in the spring! Troy is so beautiful in the spring!"

"Actually, that is what I wanted to talk to you privately about." Herc said, addressing Priam.

"Well then, talk we must!" He turned to his daughter, "Helen, honey, will you please be excused so Hercules and I can set a proper wedding date?"

"Yes, Father." Helen stood and gave a small curtsy. She walked over to where Meg was already holding the curtain open and they both left the room.

After a few steps, she spoke to the princess, "What was that all about, Lady Helen?"

"Nothing that concerns you." She turned down the corridor leading back to her bedroom, "Come, let me show you how to run a hot bath."

--

Herc waited until the women left, "Your Highness?"

"You may speak. Is something bothering you?" He rested his chin on his hands, giving a knowing smile, "Pre-wedding jitters?"

"No, Sir." Herc searched his mind for the right words, "I came all this way to tell you, in person, that...I...want to create an alliance in a...different way."

Priam blinked several times, confused, "I don't understand."

Herc hung his head, unable to look him in the eyes, "I can't...marry your daughter."

"What!?" He said, rising from his seat, "We agreed to merge forces against the Spartans, sealing the union through a marriage. Are you going back on your word?"

"Not _my _word. This entire arrangement was made by the Thebian council, I had no say in it whatsoever." Herc kept his voice calm, trying to reason with him, "This has all been a misunderstanding."

"_Misunderstanding_!?" Priam's piercing emerald eyes bored down on the hero, "I was promised a groom for Helen!"

"Protecting your people should be payment enough." Herc responded, standing. Although, at nineteen, he was much younger than the king, they both stood at the same height.

Priam remained silent for a few moments, shaking with anger, "Get out. I sever all ties to you _and_ your 'counsil'."

"Your Majesty, please, you'll be defeated if you..."

"Get out!"

"Your Maj..."

"_NOW!_"


	4. helping a hero

Author's note: My writers block passed yesterday (finally). I tried to make the chapter really long. Sorry for the wait, it took forever to proofread.

Meg whistled as she neatly folded her employer's clothes, placing them in the dresser. She glanced at the tightly shut window looking out at the front yard. It was becoming colder outside than usual, a clear sign that winter was coming earlier this year. She could picture Father and her brothers working overtime to finish picking the crops before the frost came; Mother giving them warm drinks and counting which crops to save for the family and which ones to sell. She found herself smiling as she let the memories flood back to her, tired of trying to forget.

According to the tiny lines she engraved on the wall in her 'room' every night, she'd been here for almost a month. And, surprisingly, things were going pretty well. For some reason, and much to her delight, Helen was spending more time away from the villa. She also found that, besides Priam and Achaea, there were no other occupants. Sometimes the ominous silence that hung over the house during most days was overwhelming. But, since Helen wasn't becoming any more pleasant to talk to, she was starting to get used to it.

"Have you finished?" Achaea said as she walked into the room.

"Yep." She shut the last drawer and turned around, "Do you need anything?"

If anyone brought a sense of normalcy back into her life, it was Achaea. Although, at first sight she looked like a cranky old spinster, as each day passed Meg found more and more in common with her. First of all, she wasn't that old; only in her early forties. But what set her apart from the other women Meg had met in the past month was her motherly demeanor.

"Your getting better at this." She said, seeing that the room was in perfect order.

"Thank you, Ma'am."

She sighed, "I told you, call me Achaea, anything else makes me sound old. Now, follow me. There is still much work to be done."

They both left the room and headed for the kitchen. "You know how to cook?" Achaea started opening cabinets and pulling decorative dishes out of one of the dozens of cabinets. Meg was always amazed at how she remembered where everything was.

"Yes...a little bit."

"Good. It'll save me the trouble of teaching you." She bustled in and out of the kitchen; cleaning the table, setting the table, wiping a dish, "His majesty will be stopping by for a brief lunch before he leaves to take care of business matters."

Meg picked an apple from the fruit bowl on the marble counter. As she became more accustomed to the amount of work, she found that talking made the work go by a little faster. Thankfully, Achaea liked to talk while working as well. "How long have you worked here?"

Achaea did answer right away, busying herself with chopping vegetables for a salad. "Since I was about your age," She finished the vegetables, wiped her hands on her apron, "I'm surprised you've lasted this long." She said, giving a queer look.

"What?" She spoke around the bite of apple in her mouth.

Achaea pulled a loaf of bread and a knife out of the cupboard, "You're not Lady Helen's first lady-in-waiting." She paused, as if unsure if she should continue.

Meg, her interest peaked, urged her on. They had spoken to each other many times before but never about Helen. "What do you mean?"

Making sure they were alone in the room, she answered, "As you've probably noticed, Helen isn't the most... sociable girl in Troy." She arranged the sliced bread on a platter and snorted in disgust, "Of course, It's not all her fault. That father of hers is always telling her she's to good to have friends from around here. Yet he never ceases to boast about how _perfect _Troy is and how it's filled with _perfect _people. Poor girl, she's never really had the chance to think for herself, always believing whatever her father tells her. If her mother were around..." Her voice trailed off, finishing the sentence in her mind.

"What happened to her mother?"

"What?" Achaea blinked at her. "Oh, nothing. Now put that apple down and help me set the table."

--

Hercules paced the floor of his hotel room, waiting for his assistant to return. It had been nearly a month since his fallout with Priam and they hadn't spoken since. _Maybe I made a mistake_. Maybe he could learn to tolerate Helen and her vain persona. He wanted to be the type of person who saw the good in anyone, and he usually did. Honestly, she wasn't a bad person, just a little...conceited...and rude. No, he couldn't spend the rest of his life with someone like that. Nor could he, with good conscience, let her be used as a pawn to create an alliance between two city-states who have nothing against each other in the first place.

_I have to do something. _He massaged the back of his neck, something he commonly did when he was getting stressed. He must return to Thebes soon or run the risk of restless Thebians creating a riot, waiting for their famed hero to restore order and peace in Greece.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in." His broad shoulders sagged as his trainer, Philoctites, appeared in the doorway. "Oh. Hi, Phil."

The satyr raised an eyebrow, "You seem to be in a good mood."

He gave a small smile, "Sorry. I was just waiting for Menelaus to return with news from the king."

Phil sat on the divan, rested his elbow on one of the pillows and eyed the complementary dessert platter in front of him. "You sent him back there again? Face it, kid, Priam's not going to listen."

"I know. But I have to try." He went to sit at the desk next to the window overlooking the city. "They won't be able to defeat the Spartans on their own."

"Maybe they won't attack here." Phil took a cake from the dessert tray.

"They will." Herc said with certainty, "Soon."

Another knock came at the door.

"Come in." He said as a strong yet tired looking young man entered. He closed the door and leaned heavily against it, slowly sliding down to the floor. He was about Herc's age with dark brown hair that flowed in ringlets to his shoulders. According to the Grecian Council, he was one of Herc's military advisors and personal assistant. He was also a good friend.

"Any luck?" Herc asked.

Menelaus shook his head, trying to catch his breath, "They wouldn't let me through the gate this time. They even threatened me!" He stood and straightened his tunic, a red one with the gold symbol of the grecian army on the front. "I think it would be best if we returned to Thebes before things get out of hand."

"No. We can't." Herc said determinedly. "I don't care how hardheaded the king is, we can't leave until he listens. They're not prepared to defend themselves."

"If we don't leave soon, Athens and Thebes will be defenseless as well." Menelaus said calmly. "You can't force the king to change his mind."

"Exactly my point!" Phil exclaimed, reaching for another cake.

Herc remained silent, looking out the window at the sprawling city below. This was much harder than he had anticipated. It was one thing to train men to fight, it was another to lead them against fierce warriors like the Spartans. Why had he accepted this assignment in the first place? Everyone thought it was only logical that he take the position as captain because he had become the greatest hero Greece had ever known and they were in dire need of leadership after the Spartans started attacking some small villages a year ago. He felt he didn't have a choice; It was either accept the job or try and take on the Spartans alone. That was the easiest choice he had made in the past year.

"Uh, kid?"

Herc snapped his head around to face his friends. They looked at him anxiously, waiting for his decision. "We'll leave for Thebes tomorrow. Promise." He saw their faces relax as he turned back to the window. They were right. There was no way he would be able to convince Priam to join the alliance anytime soon. He would just have to find someone who could.

--

_This is insane_. Herc thought as he climbed down the stone wall in back of Priam's property. He clutched a cloth purse gently to his chest, making his way toward the house. Menelaus had given him the layout before he left but no one, including Phil, knew what he was going to do. He made sure of it. _Helen's window should be the lowest on the east side of the house facing away from the street. _Herc hoped he would be able to find east now that the sun had set. He crouched under what (he hoped) was the correct window.

It was one of the lowest windows in the house but was still unusually high, the bottom of it just hitting him at the neck if he stood up straight. But most importantly, and lucky for him, it was open. He whispered through the opening, "Helen?"

--

Meg collapsed on the bed, exhausted. Her hands were still sore from the washing, scrubbing and dusting Achaea insisted needed to be done before sunset. She rolled over onto the clean pillows, smelling their fresh scent. Helen would have screamed (literally) if she knew Meg slept in her bed while she was away. But Meg didn't care, anything was better than trying to sleep on the rock in the other 'room'.

She must have rested longer than she thought, for it was pitch black when she opened her eyes. _F__orgot to light the candles again, _she mumbled into the pillow. No sense in stumbling in the dark trying to light a candle. She rolled onto her side, about to fall back into unconsciousness, when a noise woke her.

"Helen?"

She opened her eyes once again. _What is it now, Achaea? _Before she could voice what she was thinking, she saw a shadow move beyond the sheer curtains.

"Helen, are you there?"

Meg rose slowly, her heart pounding in her ears. Was it a burglar? No, it couldn't be. Why would he call out? Still, she scanned the room for a weapon but her eyes were still adjusting to the darkness. She wouldn't even have been able to locate the window if the faint moonlight weren't coming through it. She reached for the nightstand and grabbed one of Helen's many mirrors. She felt a little foolish holding it like a club but fear outweighed any other emotion at the moment. She pressed her back against the wall next to the window, her tight grip on the mirror making her knuckles turn white. She inhaled sharply as the shadow moved.

"Helen, is that you? It's me, Hercules."

_Hercules? _The name didn't register to Meg but she swore she heard it before.

"Helen, it's imperative that I speak with you...tonight, " He said in a harsh whisper. He had rehearsed what he was going to say for hours but could still feel his palms sweat with nervousness. "It's about your father. He won't listen to me and I was hoping that maybe you could talk to him for me. I know you're upset about the...wedding, but this is more important. Please, answer me. Look, i've brought you a gift to show my gratitude. "

A few seconds went by in complete silence. Was he waiting for her to answer? What should she say? _Sorry, Helen isn't here at the moment. Would you like to leave a message? _Before she could do anything, the man placed a small cloth bag on the windowsill. She said a quick prayer to the gods that he wouldn't try and climb through the window.

Instead, he slowly lowered the bag to the floor by it's leather strap. Meg gave a shriek as a snow white bundle rolled out of the bag.

"Don't worry," He assured her, "It doesn't bite."

Meg leaned over and inspected the fuzzy ball at her feet. "It's a kitten!"

"I-I didn't know what to get you, " He stammered, "If you don't like it..."

"No, no. It's adorable!, " She set the mirror on the ground and scooped the kitten into her arms, "Does it have a name?"

"Uh, no it doesn't." Herc said, surprised. This was going far better than he thought it would, "But it's yours now, so I think you should name it."

She thought about it. "It's a girl so it should be something beautiful and...unique. Like...laconia."

Herc rested his elbows on the sill, "Laconia?"

Meg shrank back into the darkness, though she was sure he would not be able to see her, "You know, like the town Laconia. I always thought it was a nice name."

"Laconia it is then." He hesitated, "Are you alright Helen? You sound...different"

_Darn it!_. She forgot she was supposed to be Helen. Had he noticed? "It's practically midnight, how do you think I should sound?" Was the best she could come up with.

"Oh, i'm sorry. Did I wake you?" He said, wishing he had come earlier.

Meg wracked her brain trying to think of something Helen would say. "Oh, no. I like to stay awake every night just in case a young man shows up to whisk me away." She heard him laugh lightly, obviously unsure if she was joking, "I'm just kidding, of course."

He chuckled, "Well, i'm glad you aren't angry with me. I'd thought you'd be furious."

_What? _Now she didn't have a clue what he was talking about, "What? About waking me? Don't worry about it."

There was a moment of complete silence.

"Hercules?" She leaned closer to the window but just far enough to stay out of his sight, "Are you still there?"

"Yes. I just...thought I heard something. I can't stay here long." He lowered his voice, "Will you speak with your father for me?"

_Speak with him about what? _"Uh, sure."

"Thank you, Helen." He reached through the window. Wanting to shake her hand, she assumed. Meg gently put her hand in his, feeling slightly self-conscious about her worn hand and hoping he wouldn't notice it wasn't as soft as Helen's. He didn't. In fact, he even kissed it.

Meg felt a warm sensation in her cheeks and quickly withdrew her hand. "Y-your welcome."

There was no answer as silence overcame the room one last time.

--

Happy New Year!


	5. transitions

**Author's note:** Whoa, where have I been? Well, college is a lot more time consuming than I thought. Thanks if you're still reading this. I'm done with school for the year and decided to update this story after 2-3 years. I'm going to finish it, I promise! R&R!

Megara set the kitten down and approached the window to make sure the stranger left. _Hercules. _Where had she heard that name before? She shook her head, trying to process what she had just heard. Apparently he wanted her, or Helen, to speak with Priam about something. She felt something tickle her ankle and looked down to find Laconia looking expectantly back at her.

"You hungry, Laconia?"

The kitten stared at her blankly.

"Laconia? Lacon?"

No response.

"Lacy?"

The kitten meowed and formed as close to a smile as Meg ever saw on a cat.

"Lacy it is then."

\\

Hercules watched as his assistants loaded his caravan with all of the essential items that they would need to make the long trip back to Thebes. King Priam had not contacted him since last night, leading him to believe that the king did not listen to reasoning from him or his daughter. Herc rubbed a hand over his face, wishing he were home on his mortal parents' farm. It was in stressful times like these that he would wander the pastures as a child, singing to the sheep and pretending that he was the only person in the world.

"Kid, you okay?" Phil said with concern, observing his pupils body language.

"Yeah, I'll be alright." He took a deep breath and turned to look in the direction of the palace. "Maybe they can take care of themselves."

"Kid, I don't want to be a downer here, but…"

"Then don't." Menelaus walked up behind them, patting his friend on the back. "They'll be fine."

"I hope you're right." Herc said, taking one last glance at the city.

\\

Meg headed for the kitchen, her faithful feline follower trotting behind her. Voices stopped her just short of pulling back the curtain. A pang of fear immediatley hit her. She had decided to keep Lacy hidden from her employers, certain that they would not approve of her staying inside their home. But because Helen and her father were not expected to return from their trip for quite some time, Meg did not worry of Lacy being discovered. She picked up her companion and backed away from the opening, planning to make a run for it, when the drapes swung outward and a tall man marched past her. He didn't seem to even notice her presence as he made his way toward the front door.

"Inexcusable!" She heard him mutter as he threw open the door with more energy than required.

Meg flinched as he slammed it, thankful she was not the source of his anger. _A man of that size could do some damage. _She turned around and was met by the face of Achaea. The servant blinked at her in surprise, then at the object she was carrying.

"Where did you get that?"

Meg felt a heat rush to her cheeks, feeling like a little girl caught doing something she shouldn't, "She was a gift."

Achaea raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

"Yes."

"Then give it back." The older woman turn on her heel and headed to the kitchen.

"She's not an 'it'. She's a 'she', and she was a gift." Meg asserted.

Achaea turned back, "Well, she's not welcomed here. Animals are not allowed in the house...not living ones anyway."

"Says who?"

"Says the king!" she responded, the level of irritaiton rising in her voice, "Now put her back where you found her."

"I didn't 'find' her. She was given to me." Meg held the bundle closer to her chest, afraid the woman would try to take it from her.

Achaea crossed her arms, "By whom?"

Lacy meowed, as if to answer the question herself. _Such a smart cat, my Lacy. _Meg stroked her and answered in human language, "Hercules."

Her eyes widened, clearly unexpecting this answer to come from her mouth, "Hercules? What do you know of Hercules?"

"Uh...he is the one who gave her to me."

Achaea put her hands on her hips and spoke in a tone that Meg had never heard her speak before, "I do not like liars. Take that kitten back to wherever you found it if you ever want to set foot in this house again." She stepped closer, "And if you wish for your head to continue to be connected to your shoulders, do not mention that mans name in this house again, you understand?"

"But I'm not lying!" Meg said, noticing the level of her own voice rise, "Hercu...I mean...he gave her to me." _Believing me to be Helen._

"When?"

"Last night. You can ask him if..."

"He left for Thebes this morning."

Meg digested this new information, but continued, "He spoke to me through the window in Helen's bedroom. He wanted Helen to speak with her father about the wedding."

"Stop!" Achaea looked around antiously, as if there were people around to hear them. "That's enough, Megara. Just take your friend outside and keep her away from the king and princess, alright?" The woman composed herself and left to do her duties without another word. Leaving a very puzzled teenager in her wake.

"Well, that was strange, huh Lacy?" The kitten purred affectionately in the arms of her owner.

Lacy wasn't the only change in Meg's life that day. The days and weeks that followed were quite strange indeed. Helen started acting rather peculiarly after returning with her father from their 'business' trip. Instead of her usually loud and bossy attitude, Helen acted rather...normally. She would sit in her room most of the day, just staring out the window. Nothing she saw was apparentally interesting to her; not the changing of the leaves as the winter months approached, not the beauty of the first snow of the season.

Nothing.

To be honest, it aggrivated Meg almost as much as when Helen was acting like...Helen. Almost. As much as she tried to fight it, Meg couldn't help but fell a little sorry for her. She believed Achaea when she said the princess didn't have any friends, but she didn't realize what type of life that meant. She was not much of a friend-maker herself; having her brothers and parents was all she needed. Plus, the girls that lived on the neighboring farms were not the type of friends she would have wanted to have anyway; what with their annoying giggles whenever a cute boy walked past them and their mouths only opening to emit hurtful gossip, Meg was sure she was better off without them.

But with Helen it was different. She really didn't have any family besides her father, and King Priam _(gods forgive me)_ didn't seem like the fatherly type. His long trips away from home, whether they were important or not, certainly must have taken it's tole on their relationship. And showering her with gifts from far away places did not help. The air of confidence that Meg had thought surrounded Helen everywhere she went quickly dissipated whenever she saw the princess alone. For it was only shen she was alone that Helen let her guard down and revealed herself for what she truly was. A confused teenager that didn't know where she belonged.

Yes, Meg felt sorry for her. But it was pointless to feel sorry for someone if you weren't going to do anything about it, or so her mother had taught her.

So, as she once again saw the princess sitting in front of her window, staring blankely at the glass, she approached her, "Good afternoon, Lady Helen."

Helen ignored her, not even blinking at her words.

"It's going to be a cold winter, don't you think?"

Helen furrowed her brows, still staring out the window, "Winters are always cold."

"I mean, colder than usual."

At this, Helen turned her view to Meg, "You keep track of how cold it is in the winter?"

"Well, yes." She said, encouraged now that she finally had her attention, "At least, i used to. My father would look for signs that would tell him how cold it would be so we could store extra supplies, if needed."

"Hmm." Helen looked back out the window a bit more intensely.

Meg racked her brain for something else to say, "You know, a bit of fresh air might be good for you." she said out of desparation, ignoring the fact that the air anywhere near the city would be anything _but _fresh.

"It's too cold."

"No it...," She paused, suddenly getting the joke, and laughed.

Helen looked at her with a puzzeled expression, "What's so funny?"

"It's just...you...nevermind." Meg gave up, realizing the joke was noticed by her alone. She sighed to herself and took a seat next to Helen. They both watched as snowflakes the size of pinpoints floated passed before vanishing on the ground.

Helen's voice broke the silence, "Will you come with me?"

It took a moment for Meg to process that not only her Lady spoke, but that she was actually asking her a question, "I'm sorry?"

Helen's icy blue eyes met hers, "My father is sending me somewhere far away. Will you come with me?"

_I have a choice? _From the look in her eyes, Meg could tell that it was a genuine question, not rhetorical. _Will she get mad if I say no? Are we ever coming back? _For some reason she could not get these questions past her lips, and Helen was attentively awaiting her answer.

"Yes, Lady Helen."


End file.
